


Upshot

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Boys in Skirts, Ficlet, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-08 03:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16421135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis and Gladio pick Noctis and Prompto up from the arcade.





	Upshot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clairelutra (exosolarmoon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Noctis in a pleated miniskirt...and not only does he know how to work it, but he knows what to wear with it to make his muscles and lack of boobage look natural. +++ zettai ryouiki” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5690.html?thread=11132474#cmt11132474).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“Of course I understand the impulse,” Ignis sighs, stopping at the red and casting a _look_ at Gladiolus. “But he simply doesn’t have the time for such dalliances. The amount of homework he’s neglected is staggering, and we still have to go over Tuesday’s council reports—”

“All the more reason to have a break,” Gladiolus grunts. The light turns green again, and Ignis turns left, avoiding the next intersection in favour of a slower back alley. “Look, I’m not saying he’s not a lazy bum sometimes, but it’s the first time he’s escaped your hold in a month. Just let him shoot a few aliens or whatever they’re doing.”

Recognizing he’s not going to win and feeling rather like a feuding parent, Ignis settles for: “I’m going to scold him anyway. I simply ask that you don’t undermine me when I do so.”

Emerging from the alley, Ignis does a peripheral drive past the arcade’s mouth. Noctis isn’t there yet. Gladiolus concedes, “Fine.” But then he nudges Ignis’ side as Ignis is settling into a parking space across the street. “Hey, remember when we snuck out that night to shoot hoops, and Drautos caught us?”

“ _You_ snuck out,” Ignis corrects. “I was an innocent victim.” Although, he did let Gladiolus eventually talk him into leaving the office he was supposed to be working in. But that was different. He was entirely caught up on his duties, and it was only because he was so run ragged with his schedule that he allowed the small break. Gladiolus chuckles fondly and leans back in the passenger seat.

A quick text telling Noctis they’ve arrived, and Ignis receives back: _Cool, we’ll be right out._ The ‘we’ doesn’t surprise him—Ignis already figured Prompto would be glued to Noctis’ side the second he could. Then it’s just a matter of eyeing the entrance and waiting. 

Three scraggly-looking teenage boys emerge, then two laughing girls, then Prompto and... Noctis. 

Ignis blinks and actually considers wiping his glasses clean, as though a stray smudge could possibly be responsible. Beside him, Gladiolus lets out an equally shocked, “What the...”

Tight at one another’s sides and holding several branded plastic bags, Noctis and Prompto are talking like everything’s perfectly normal. Prompto is—he’s got the usual dark-wash skinny jeans and sleeveless shirt, a plaid over-shirt tied around his waist. 

Noctis has a fitted black jacket with white trim and a horrendously short miniskirt, pleated and striped at the bottom, matching the thigh-high socks that cling tightly to his legs. Ignis’ vision doesn’t even make it all the way down to see what kind of shoes Noctis is wearing; he’s still stuck on the _skirt_.

It kicks up around Noctis’ thighs when he walks. It barely covers his thighs as-is. The thin strip of skin below looks horribly scandalous for it. Suddenly, the sway in Noctis’ step is magnified tenfold, every jut and thrust of his slender hips impossible to look away from. There is a slight blush across Prompto’s cheeks, but it’s nowhere near how deep Ignis’ must be. He can’t seem to look away long enough to check Gladiolus. Then Noctis and Prompto spot them but halt on the edge of the sidewalk, Noctis passing his bags over to Prompto. Prompto holds onto them as Noctis leans on Prompto’s shoulder, arching down to run his finger around the inside of his shoe. He must be getting a pebble out or something. The jacket dips down low enough that the pose should show off cleavage, but Noctis doesn’t have any. The outfit’s snug enough that it looks perfect anyway. Ignis notices that Prompto hurriedly looks away during the sight, and Ignis could be wrong, but he _thinks_ Prompto just stole a look at Noctis’ behind when bent over.

Then Noctis is straightening out again, collecting his bags, and strolling right to the car. Prompto opens the door first, and Noctis grunts, “Thanks,” as he slides into the backseat.

Prompto gets in next to him. The door clicks shut. Ignis and Gladiolus both look back. 

Noctis crosses one long leg over the other. It makes the skirt roll up. Ignis can’t be sure if he saw anything during the initial movement or not. 

Gladiolus is the first to say, “Well?”

“Well what?” Noctis answers. Prompto sets in on fishing through their bags.

“You gonna explain the costume change?”

Noctis glances down at his lap, like he’d entirely forgotten he’s wearing anything beyond his usual wardrobe. Ignis can’t tell if he really isn’t thinking twice about it or if he’s desperately trying to trick them into just accepting it. “Oh. Yeah. There was an event there for the _Fantasy Finale_ series, and they had these limited edition figurines they’d only give to cosplayers.”

As if on queue, Prompto pulls a fancy box out of one of Noctis’ bags, grinning from ear to ear and exclaiming, “It’s so cool!” He turns the box to show Gladiolus and Ignis the incredibly skimpy figure painted on the front: a particularly curvaceous woman with enormous breasts spilling out of the same jacket Noctis is wearing and a plump rear testing the limits of a similar skirt.

“And _mine_ ,” Noctis adds with a smirk, plucking it out of Prompto’s hands. Prompto looks like he’s about to die of envy.

Gladiolus whistles, presumably at the girl on the box and not the boy in the backseat. Ignis doesn’t know what to say. He feels like he should scold Noctis for _something_. As unnoticed as Noctis often goes with his relatively casual clothes and presence, surely the prince in a miniskirt is bound to catch someone’s attention. Ignis knows it’s a very good chance he’ll find pictures in tomorrow’s paper.

The tabloids are likely to be less enlightened than Ignis is. He hates sinking down to their level. But it’s his job to anticipate their articles and make sure Noctis doesn’t repeat any. Yet it feels wrong to forbid Noctis from wearing certain clothes.

Finally, after a long stint of consideration, Ignis says, “Noctis, if you wish to wear such outfits in the future, please make sure the hem is considerably longer.”

“The hem,” Noctis repeats, sounding both like he’s expecting a longer lecture and ready to challenge it.

“Yes,” Ignis confirms. “You must realize how dreadfully inappropriate the length, or lack thereof, on that skirt is. The slightest breeze could make for very unfortunate tabloid headlines.”

Gladiolus throws in, “You do any dancing games in that?”

Prompto opens his mouth, but Noctis quickly elbows him. Prompto shuts his mouth again. Ignis is full of internal groans.

It’s too late now. Still frazzled, Ignis turns back to the steering wheel. 

He was going to drive them to a restaurant for a group dinner, having Gladiolus in tow on a rare day off, before returning Noctis to his homework pile. 

Instead, he heads straight for Noctis’ apartment. His own blush haunts him in the rearview mirror.

The only consolation is that everyone else’s is just as bad. Ignis makes a silent vow never to let Noctis escape his supervision again.


End file.
